


I Dreamt We Spoke Again

by aphrosCartographer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 20:29:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19185007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrosCartographer/pseuds/aphrosCartographer
Summary: When you leave, what of those you leave behind?aka im really emo about the ending of endgame so i wrote this





	I Dreamt We Spoke Again

The silence is the hardest part. 

It’s impossible to distract the mind when the crushing silence covers everything. There’s no hiding the sorrow behind tight smiles and no need for brave faces. There’s no one to see her tears in the silence. Their bedroom is dark and cold, and she is alone. 

She clings to the soft, black material of the one shirt she’d allowed herself to keep. The suits, shoes, and hideous band shirts she’d always berated him for wearing had been donated to various charities anonymously. It’s what he would have wanted, to see his things enjoyed and used instead of being hoarded and cried over by his loved ones. She also figured he would forgive her for keeping just one of them for herself. 

She pushes her face into the worn cotton and allows a sob to escape from her chest where it had been pressing against her lungs all day and making it almost impossible to breathe. It’s one of the few times she allows herself to break like this and let her grief overwhelm her. Today was Morgan’s first birthday without her dad. It was hard to think that almost an entire year had gone by since he sacrificed himself to save billions and billions of people because it still feels fresh. It’s a constant pain in her heart that nothing can dull. 

It’s hardest in the silence. 

The scent of him clings only faintly now to the cotton of the black t-shirt. She never listened to whatever band the shirt is advertising and knew that she wasn’t going to be able to now. How could she? The thought of turning on music that he used to listen to in his workshop and not be able to hear his horrible baritone through the floorboards isn’t something she wants to subject herself to. The tinkering sounds that had often drifted up to their bedroom and lulled her to sleep were long gone, so she sat alone on the edge of their bed, surrounded by the absence of everything that had given away his presence. She went to sleep every night now, knowing that she will sleep through the night without being awoken by his excitement over a new discovery. Never to roll over and feel his arms around her in a not-so-selfless attempt to keep her from leaving to run the company he entrusted her with. Every morning she would walk into her office and stare at documents bearing the memory of the man she loved so fiercely she could barely fathom life without him. And yet, there she was, living. And the letters emblazoned across every document she signed reminded her of the fact that she was here and he was gone. Every letter was like a sucker punch in the stomach. 

_S. T. A. R. K._

She gasps out a sob into her hands. She wishes, selfishly she knows it is the most selfish thing she could wish for, that Steve and Sam had never come looking for him a year ago. That he hadn’t been as brilliant as he was. That half of the universe was still gone, so that he could be here. With her. With their daughter. With the friends and family that he’d built and loved and saved multiple times over. 

It’s so selfish, but she can’t help but wish in the silence of their bedroom. 

Her bedroom. It’s hers now. She hates that. She doesn’t want to be alone here tonight. It’s too damn quiet. 

She gathers the blankets from their bed and snatches the pillow from his side of the bed. She opens the bedroom door carefully; it’s been creaking a lot lately and she just hasn’t had the energy to do anything about it. Rhodey is supposed to come by in the morning to help her with Morgan, maybe she’ll ask him to fix it then. The door opens with only a slight creaking sound and she tiptoes into the hallway. It is very late, Morgan has been in bed for at least three hours now; there’s little worry about waking her up. It had been a good birthday party, Morgan had seemed very happy. She understands now that her dad isn’t coming home, but doesn’t seem to understand why. They’d talked about it as much as she thought her daughter needed, but death is a difficult concept to explain to a seven-year-old. She made sure to tell her stories of her dad every night. Extraordinary stories of Iron Man and his friends. Those stories always had happy endings because she got to finish them. The real world could take her husband away but in Morgan’s world she wanted Iron Man to be truly invincible. 

The house is empty aside from the ghosts of memory that insist on walking the halls. She’s tried to sell the house a dozen times now, but can never go through with it. How can she give up the house they made together? If she leaves, she leaves every whisper of him that still resides there. She knows it’s ridiculous and illogical, but she doesn’t care. She’s too tired to care about practicality anymore. The house is dark and full of ghosts but she gathers the blankets more securely around her as she makes her way down the stairs and through the kitchen. She closes her eyes as specters of Tony making breakfast and dancing around the kitchen threaten to pull her to the floor. She pushes through, past the table and chairs, through the living room, and down into the basement. She’s moving more quickly now, confident that the distance between her and her sleeping daughter has assuaged the danger of waking her with heavy footfalls. 

The basement workshop is exactly how he left it. Every note, wrench, drop of oil, left exactly where it was. She’s tried to put things away, but doing so feels like an insult to his memory. Tony was his tinkering and his workshop and she balks at the thought of trying to get rid of this last testament to the man that he was. 

It’s so dark and so quiet and she is so so so alone. 

She arranges the pillow and blankets on the small sofa that Tony had often slept on after a long night of running simulations. It wasn’t comfortable, but she felt so close to him when she was down there. Like she could rip through whatever veil separated this world from the next and pull him into her arms again. She would chastise him about his hero complex and he would laugh and tell her the same thing. Then she would hold him so close that he could never get away from her again. 

It’s all fantasy really, and imagining hurts. 

Satisfied that she will be somewhat comfortable for the night on the small sofa, she walks over to the one device in the room that she has used many, many times. It’s a small projector, and it’s her anchor when things are so hard she doesn’t know what to do next. He’s gone, but he left her more ghosts to help keep her company. She takes a deep, shuddering inhale. Her eyes are already welling with tears as she pushes the button and the projector whirrs to life. The room is suddenly bright as day and Tony is there and she is not alone. And then he speaks, and the silence is broken. She watches, her eyes tracing over the familiar face. He’s scared about what he has to do, she can see that now. Lines around his eyes and on his forehead that betray the amount of stress he’s under as he is preparing himself to take on the man that killed half of the universe. It’s not a long message, and she memorized every word months ago, but the last moments are what she always listens for. A reminder that he is with her, whether she can see him or not. She’s sitting on the sofa now, tears running openly down her face, as she listens to the final words she will ever hear her husband speak. 

“Hey Pepper, listen. If things go south tomorrow, know that I’ll always love you. Wherever I am, whenever I am, know that I will always be thinking of you. Goodnight, my love. I’ll see you soon.” 

The projector clicks off, and Pepper is left in silence once again.


End file.
